Cold and Stuffy but in No Way Dusty
by LaMissile
Summary: Join Buffy, Willow, Giles, Angel and our guest apearance tonight, Darla on an adventure you'll never forget. Read on as Buffy conquers her cold while obliterating every tissuelike object within 50 miles. An entertaining oneshot.


It was a normal day for me until inspiration struck me in the form of a tissue. During math. Literally. Right on the back of my head. Then, poof, Dawwa was born.

Translations of Stuffy Buffish are at the bottom for your conveniance.

Disclaimer: I really don't own much of anything. It all belongs to Joss.

* * *

Buffy, slayer of all things cold, dusty and deadly, woke up totally oblivious that her title was to be shortened this fine morn. 

"Ody Kow." Our hero awakes and dives majestically in the supposed direction of her tissue box, and crushes her frantic alarm clock beneath her. We can assume the alarm clock was frantic, but we shall never really know because the plot will have moved on by then.

Buffy had said "Ody Kow" because she realized that she was about to sneeze. Very, very loudly. So she did, and ripped her tissue with her snotty slayer strength. It was then she realized her problem. Oh yes, Buffy had had a cold.

Then the Slayer had a new experience. Hopping up and down because you're trying to dress and blow your nose at the same time is neither an effective way to travel long distances or a funky new dance. However, not even this could prepare her for the surprise ahead.

She entered the bathroom, exhausted from her new disco manuvers, and screamed, "Aaaahhh-cough-aaahh". Her lovely mother Joyce, ready for anything and armed with a container of orange juice, came to her daughter's aid. "Buffy, sweetie, what's the matter?"

The brave young High-Schooler looked away from her mirrored reflection long enough to say, " Aih ag da wust coge ug moi loife, moi noshe ees wed ang aih dink aih shud shtay ome. Boi, mam." Joyce looked at Buffy's hasty retreat under the covers with an innocent box of tissues whose contents were rapidly being diminished. She had only understood about half of that sentence, but knew Buffy was going to school.

"Sweetheart, what about your history test? You said she wasn't giving any redos. You wouldn't want all that nightime studying with Willow to go to waste."

"Boit, Mmmaaamm... moi noshe... ees wed." The newest of Ruolph's descendants poked her head out of her covers.

Buffy's puppy face had no affect. "Well, wear a turtleneck." What else could you say? Joyce had no idea.

"Come on."

Buffy got out of bed.

"Trust me, Buffy, no one will notice." Willow said on the way to the library in the morning.

"Aih dunnoe." Sneeze, sneeze.

"You'll last the day, I know you will, right?" 'Go, Willow, with the pep talk. I'm good. Now if I could just keep from laughing and hide her from Cordelia, I'd be fantastic.' That made her feel guilty, but giggly.

The dastardly duo arrived at the library, which was empty, as normal. Giles came down the steps from somewhere in the shelves. You'd think he hid there on purpose just so he could do things like that.

"Good Lord! Buffy, did you break your nose? It's terrible!"

"Thee! Aih taid aih ooked loike eh ehpol, boit nnnoooee. Eelo sahs oim foine." She panicked, and Giles looked confused. He also took off his glasses, which made her nose look like it was bouncing with a life of it's own. Actually, Buffy would have preferred it had a life seperate from hers right then.

"Ah, I don't understand. Do you have a cold or something?"

"Noh, Aih ag a hengneel. Ees, Jalls, aih ag ah coge."

"Willow, translate."

Willow looked at the watcher with a poker face and proclaimed her dying friend fine, but with a bit of the sniffles and a hangnail. During this announcement, the subject was gripped in a awful coughing fit and cleaned out the resident tissue box.

Buffy went straight home that day. Willow and Xander had headed off to the Bronze, desperate to get out of the surgical masks they'd been wearing all day. Giles had a supply in his office. He didn't explain why.

The Slayer had to stop walking for a moment, caught in a truly magnificent sneeze. Thus, she did not hear the approach of her beloved Angel, but he didn't know that yet.

"Hello."

Reflexs spun her around to cough directlty in his face with perfect aim."Oh ma Wad, Angle. Thorry, Aih ag a weelly bag coge."

Angel, now by slayer decree dubbed Angle, was infinitely glad she had said that. He'd thought her nose had found the meaning of sandpaper and wasn't sure how to ask politely.

"That's all right."

"Tho, wath da mathage ah goom? Whosh da nashtie?"

"Uh, Darla. Darla's out tonight."

"Dawwa? Oi navver erd ov Dawwa."

"Right. Well, look, please take this." He handed her a hanky. Angel couldn't help but realize she needed it badly. It was very distracting.

"Danks, Angle." She procceded to honk so loudly on it, it hurt his sensitive ears. Angel thought it probably woke up every sleeping vamp in Sunnydale. Well I, for one, don't know about them but it did bring out the very naughty Darla.

"Looks like the Slayer needs to slay her cold."

" Ohr oo." So she did. Slay Darla, that is. Fight scenes can be really boring so add it in with that excellent imagination I know you have.

Angel had disappeared again by the time she was done creating bruises. Buffy pouted. 'You'd think he'd stick around once or twice, but he's always gotta run.' She amused herself the rest of the way home making what she secretly called "Angel's running noise". Woosh. Wwwooooosh. Wwwwwwwwwooooooooo(sneeze)oossssshh

With the end of that really lllloonngg 'woosh', she had reached her happy home. Buffy proceeded by ripping the cupboards apart searching for the elusive cough medicine.

Then she had the bright idea of _opening_ the cupboards before tearing them to bits. A few frustrating minutes later, Buffy had found the Holy Grail.

The Slayer had performed her magical slayage upon her cold conondrum. Her title for the day was shortened to Buffy, slayer of all things cold related.

* * *

This annoying little episode is dedicated to my school, which, even though it is yet early in the year has got a really bad cold going round. My nose, usually so dedicated in it's sacred duty of smelling and nothing else, has a nasty itch. For absolutely no reason. 

Translations of Stuffy Buffish:

"Holy Cow"

" I have the worst cold of my life, my nose is red and I think I should stay home. Bye Mom."

"But, Mmmmooommm, my nose...it's red."

" I dunno"

"See! I said I looked like an apple, but nnnooo. Willow says I'm fine."

"No, I have a hangnail. Yes, Giles, I have a cold."

"Oh my Lord, Angel. Sorry, I have a really bad cold."

"So, what's the message of doom? Who's the nasty?"

"Darla? I never heard of Darla."

"Thanks, Angel."

"Or you."

I'd like to point out that this is set very early in BtVS. I also am a Spuffy fan.

Review if it made you laugh.


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